


Shorts of awesome

by Anarion



Series: Wee prompt-inspired ficlets [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Assassins, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bees, Cryptids, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, Immortals, Love, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Old Gods and New, Original work - Freeform, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outer Space, Plot Twists, Prompt Fill, Stories light and dark, Surprise Ending, Vampires, drabbles and short stories, each chapter is a stand-alone story, picture prompts, sea creatures - Freeform, the ocean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 14,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25311064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/pseuds/Anarion
Summary: A collection of short stories inspired by Atlin Merrick's Improbable picture prompts.
Series: Wee prompt-inspired ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695898
Comments: 103
Kudos: 16





	1. All it takes

They warned me. Leaving the planet was dangerous. What if you don’t come back? What if your spaceship crashes? What if you get sucked out into space? What if you get eaten by some weird alien?

I didn’t listen. My spaceship didn’t crash. I did not get sucked out into space. I did not get eaten by an alien, weird or not. Leaving the planet turned out to be dangerous for a completely different reason.

Again, I was warned. All it would take was that first physical contact.

Again, I didn’t listen. I reached out and I touched you when you offered. And they were right. It is singing in my blood right now, the siren song of your venom. Addictive and deadly, like a drug.

We both know it will kill me one day. Yet neither of us is willing to stop. Who will lose more in the end? We don’t talk about it much, there really is no point. But I know, I’d rather die by your kiss than remain unkissed by you for the rest of my life.

I watch you while you sleep, watch your scales changing colour as you dream. Are you dreaming of me?


	2. The hanging tree

The computer shows me a list of attractions on this planet.  
• Golgotha  
• Mecca  
• The hanging tree

I blink at the first two. Clearly the local dialect is a bit too much for my OTT.

“Beth, my OTTy seems to be faulty. We’ll have to check it when I get back.”

The board computer beeps and then replies, “Sure thing. Setting a reminder to check your Optical Translator Tool.”

I exit the ship and walk into a wall of heat. Humidity is high and it takes me a few minutes in the shade of one of the exclusively round buildings to acclimatise. I look at the map with the sights again, trying to figure out where to go when something gently taps my knee.

It’s one member of one of the species that live here. To me they look like tiny people made of clouds, with four brilliantly shining purple eyes.

They blink at me and then reach for the map. I let go and the map disappears into the cloud. They chitter something, sounds that will remain untranslated until my Audio Translator Tool can catch up.

I assume we just agreed to go sight-seeing together and follow them out into the blazing light of the two suns.

The little creature running ahead and impatiently waiting for me to catch up while hopping on the spot reminds me of a little girl I once knew. Yes, I know other species have different or sometimes no gender classifications and what do I know, they might be 500 years old. Still.

***

When I return a few earth hours later, Beth fixes my OTTy while we chat about my day.

“You seem to have bonded with one of the local residents. Might I remind you that you need to train new crew?”

“We are not taking anybody on, Beth.”

“Fine.” 

I will forever be amazed at the fact that my board computer can pout.

But Beth is right, I _need_ to train new crew, because the farther out we get, the less likely it is that we will meet any kind of life. So I’m not even cross when Beth announces three hours after departure that we have a stowaway on board.

.

[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/the-hanging-tree-picture-prompt) is this story's picture prompt.


	3. Start over

I sit on the pier and watch the waves that lick the stones, glistening in the afternoon light. The pebbles in my left hand are slowly getting warm as they take some of my body heat. I take one and throw it as far as I can, imagining the way it tumbles through the water until it hits the ground.

You said you’d be here by three and now it’s four, so I’m guessing you are not coming anymore. Actually, I never really expected you to come anyway.

I close my eyes, the sun warm on my face despite the cold winter day. Suddenly I feel a shadow fall and a presence next to me. I turn my head and there you are.

You sit down next to me, so close that I can see all the freckles on your nose. I counted them once, when you fell asleep with your head on my pillow and honestly, I was pretty sure I’d never be this close to you ever again.

You smile, not your usual radiant smile that shows all your teeth, but a small one, tinted with insecurity. You smile and you say, “Let’s start over?”

[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/start-over-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt.


	4. Black Water

The wind is coming in from the sea and I can taste her salt on my lips, greeting me, calling me home.

I look back to the street that I have lived in the past years, the windows are blazing in all the houses except for mine. I turn away and follow the road to the harbour, leaving the buzz of the town behind me. Soon I hear nothing but the sound of waves.

I walk down the boardwalk till I come up right at the edge. Here I start stripping off my clothes, and I welcome the cold bite of the wind on my skin.

I jump and the moment of reconnection steals my breath away. The current pulls me away from land immediately, but I never meant to return there, so I just give myself over to her.

I’ve picked the spot for this reason, for the strong, dangerous currents that pull me down, so that I don’t even have to make an effort. The transformation starts suddenly and is as painful as I remember. Lungs are not needed here, neither are hands or feet, so they return to their original form of fins and tail.

Once the transformation is complete, I swim out and down, down, down to where the water looks almost black, and I join my sisters and brothers.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This turned into a 221b without me even trying. :D


	5. Is anyone there?

Did I just take a wrong turn again ?

I feel like I have been wandering empty corridors for weeks now. Everything looks the same. The walls are white, the floors are grey, there is no colour anywhere. No people either. Where is everybody?

I should have found my way back again by now. I lean against the wall and then slide down ungracefully, until I can rest my head on my knees. I sit there for a few minutes, waiting, hoping.

But there is no hope. No noise, nothing.

I pick myself up and follow the next white corridor, opening doors on either side that only lead to dark and empty rooms.

The next door I open is gonna be the last one. I’m done.

I open the next door and suddenly there is a voice.

“Marc. Seriously? I just sent you to get me some X-rays from Dr. Gern and you disappear for almost 40 minutes? What did you do? Take a nap?”

  


_AN:[Here](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/is-anyone-there-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	6. Written Warning

We should not have ignored the written warning on the fence, but Jade was going first and she is always the one to push and we are always the ones to follow.

We ignored the written warning and then I lost the others and now I’m all alone and the light is to bright and the forest is too quiet for a place filled with countless animals and insects.

I can feel the creature’s presence following me, crowding close, like someone breathing on my neck.  
I stumble and I fall into the fern and it should not be as peaceful as it is, being surrounded by the soft green tentacle-like leaves.

The creature draws close, its silhouette blocking out the sun and though I’m expecting the worst, when the first claw touches my skin, to my surprise it doesn’t feel sharp, but kitten-soft.

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/written-warning-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	7. Foolish Human

I hear them come closer. The door opens, something claw-like grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet. It’s difficult to walk without being able to see and I get shoved more often than I think is really necessary.

We walk up and down slopes and the hallway curves and twists until something that sounds like a very large door gets opened. They push me forward again and again and then they push me to my knees. The hood gets pulled off, but I still can’t see clearly. Whatever my captor sprayed into my eyes makes them water and everything looks like it’s pixelated.

A very tall and slender creature steps up next to me and it takes a couple of seconds before my translator implant turns their hisses into a language I understand.

What I can gather is that we walked into a forbidden place and the punishment for that seems to entail instantly being melted on the very carpet I am currently kneeling on. Lovely.

And of course it’s _me_ they captured. Why is it always me they capture? And where the hell is Graban anyway?

The creature next to me grabs a long thing and oh boy, is that the thing that is about to melt me? This is neither the place nor the time nor the way that I want to go, but really, bound and on your knees and surrounded by 2-meter tall creatures with six limbs and a melting-thing, how much can you do?

Suddenly the huge doors are shoved open again and I hear a familiar voice holler, “Stop! You have no right.”

The guardian of the queen (oh yeah, have I mentioned the queen yet? Pardon me, I was a bit distracted. She is apparently going to eat what is left of me) hisses back. “That foolish human entered the forbidden garden. It has to pay for its sins.”

“I agree. But it is _my_ foolish human, so the task falls to me. Intergalactic law and all.”

Graban pulls me to my feet and grins at me and I decide that we _really_ have to talk about his love for dramatic last minute rescue operations!

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/foolish-human-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	8. Sudden Silence

She is as old as this world, born in the very bones of the planet in fire and pressure. When she was young, she spent most of her time close to the core, but eventually she made her way up to the surface.

The water covering the planet was a revelation in its vastness and the difference to the environment she was used to. She spent millions of years in the oceans, never tiring of all the wonders in there.

Now and then she returned to the core to sleep and every time after waking she found new things to explore. Recently a new species has been growing and expanding its reach. The oceans have become noisy and crowded.

She retreats to an island where she finds a lake to her liking. She avoids the rivers where the Kelpies live. The water always tastes of malice and fear. But the lake is lovely.

But even here, the humans come and gather, searching for her even. She decides to return to the earth to go back to sleep. One day the humans will be gone, and this will be her world again.

She dives and the sudden silence around her is a blessing. Slowly she sinks, deep, and deeper until the earth encloses her, and leaves the noisy world of people behind. 

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/sudden-silence-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	9. A Red Herring

I stumble up the last hill and suddenly there is nothing more between me and the horizon. The slope of the hill flows into a stony beach, which in turn gets swallowed by a grey and angry ocean.

Jess and Mike come up next to me and follow my gaze. There is no sound but the wind and the wheezing of breath. Then Mike gasps out a single, broken syllable. “No!”

And with that all three of us seem to lose the last bit of strength we had and one after the other we drop to the ground where we stand.

It was all a lie. We have crossed the barren lands following a promise that turned out to be as empty as the sky.

There is nowhere left to go.

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/a-red-herring-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	10. Be careful what you wish for (1)

Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

Still, as I watched the emperor parade through our town on his dragon, her scales iridescent in the sunlight, her wings quivering as if she was about to leap up and carry him wherever he wanted to go, his hand resting firmly but gently on her shoulder, I saw the beauty of them together and I wanted that.

Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

Still, as I saw them ride out into war, colours blazing and trumpets sounding so loud it echoed from the mountains, as I heard the tales of huge battles, of unspeakable bravery and tragedy alike, of heroes and glory, I wanted that.

Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

Still, as I saw the castle with the soaring towers, the banners on top snapping in the breeze, the windows sparkling in the sun, as I saw the wonders, the riches and the opulent lifestyle I wanted that. 

Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

~

I look down at the enchanted shackles around my ankle, forever cutting in my flesh, I look up at the magical cage over my head that’s preventing me from taking flight unless it is wished by the emperor, I feel the branding burned into my scales, forever binding me to this human lineage.

Be careful what you wish for, my brother said before he granted my wish. 

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/be-careful-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	11. Be careful what you wish for (2)

He’s glorious, long and lean, pale and fiery both. We watch him dance through the water from the safe harbour of the reef. He doesn’t need the protection, he is free to swim with the flow of the water.

I dare to dart out a bit further, to see him better and my mother’s scales change colour, indicating warning. I gaze back at her and the rest of my shoal, all of them almost disappearing in the shadow of the reef, no colour except grey and blue.

I turn back to the open water and I can’t stop looking at his opulent beauty. The long tentacles seem to wave at me gently. Mesmerised I swim closer and closer; mother and her words of warning long forgotten.

The first contact is almost gentle, just the ghost of a touch, a gentle sweep of his longest tentacle.

He is aware of me now; more and more tentacles extend towards me and I give one last flap of my fin that carries me right into his embrace. There is no pain, all I feel is a faint tingling sensation.

My last thoughts before I lose consciousness is that when he consumes me, I’ll finally be part of something beautiful too.

~ ~ ~

.  


  


_AN: I read Atlin’s story and this is where my brain went. I have no explanation. Go read hers[here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/be-careful-writing-prompts)._

.


	12. I Haven't Forgotten...

The tremor starts around noon, while we are sitting in class, gently at first, but seconds later the glass of the window shatters. People scream. A dog howls.

I run outside and I drop to my knees, digging my fingers in the earth. I send my mind down into her depth, I try to find the ball of tension in her, to make her be calm and unbent again. But I never could do what you did with so much ease, I never spoke her language like you did.

I feel my focus slipping and the buildings begin to shake again. I should have never tried to quell an earthquake this big; my control of the ground was never the best. My element is and will always be water.

But there is no one here who could do better than me. You are not here and have not been in a long time.

I close my eyes and I try to focus. I think of you, my earth spirit, my beautiful counterpart, and as I deepen my breathing, I feel your presence as if you were here. I remember the way you used to slip your arms around me from behind and rest your chin on my shoulder, your breath tickling my ear. I remember the way you smell and the sound of your joyful laughter. I have not forgotten a single thing about you.

I sense you reach past me, down into the angry earth, and I feel her beginning to quieten.

Together you and I were invincible and maybe one day we again will be.

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/i-havent-forgotten-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	13. Burnt Offerings

It has been a day of no significance so far, right up until the point when my village chose me as sacrifice.

I guess they expected me to be afraid, to start crying or screaming, or even try to run away as the last sacrifice did. I am not afraid, and I do none of those things. I have been walking through life feeling numb and disconnected, what does it matter how this ends?

~ ~ ~

The drums echo through the dark, calling, leading the way through the forest till we reach the clearing, ablaze with the light of a huge fire that has been burning for three days.

I am the only woman in the procession, this is a male-dominated ritual after all. All the men have made themselves look as glorious and glamorous as possible. They have adorned their skin with tattoos and piercings, highlighted their eyes with khol, and they carry their most impressive weapons.

Interestingly, me, the holy sacrifice, the gift to the Goddess, no one has adorned with anything. It’s not my looks that are needed to call her after all, it’s my pain.

They will offer me to the flames and my screams will call the Goddess, who then appears and chooses one of the men to be her companion. It is the greatest honour and all of them wish to be the one who she looks at when she speaks the traditional words “I have made my choice.”

We stop near the fire pit and I watch them throw in minor offerings of food and flowers. Time seems to slow down as the men start dancing around the fire, accompanied by the drums and the ancient chants.

Suddenly, with a deafening noise, the flames soar sky-high and every movement on the clearing stops as the Goddess appears in the fire. She looks fierce and terrible, old and young, beautiful and horrifying. All the men take a fearful step back, leaving the only person standing right at the edge of the pit to be me.

She steps out of the fire and she looks at me and for the first time in my life I feel something. And then she extends her hand and gently rests it on my cheek. Oh, so this is what it’s like to be alive?

Her gaze is a wordless question and my answer is equally wordless, I am nothing but affirmation and rapture.

She steps back into the fire and opens her arms to me and she smiles, all terrifyingly beautiful. I smile back and I step into her fiery embrace without hesitation.

~ ~ ~

The men are left standing in all their glory, staring at the now empty space. The flames die down, the drums go silent.

The Goddess will never be seen again. 

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/burnt-offerings-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	14. Don't Go...

You deciding to leave me comes without a warning. Have I been too complacent? Did I not see the signs?

I stare at you and the pain of betrayal burns through my chest as sharp and quick as the breaking of bone.

I can’t believe you’re leaving me. Not today. Not like this. I don’t deserve that. We don’t deserve that.

You get up to leave the room and I run after you and we collide in the doorframe and tumble into the kitchen. I slip on the cool kitchen tiles and slam into the fridge and somehow the door opens and the stupid thing spills leek and carrots like intestines.

You look at me and shake your head with a small sigh before closing the door again. Once my clumsiness used to make you laugh.

I wonder if I should tackle you to the floor, but that seems a tad excessive even in these circumstances. As always you are able to read my intentions in my eyes, because you say, “No” in that voice that always makes me want to cower.

You walk to the door and you put on your shoes. I decide I’m just going to sit in front of the door. That way you can’t leave. It’s not a long-term solution, but maybe it will make you stay long enough to reconsider.

You stare at me for what feels like an eternity, then you go to your knees in front of me and you grab me and bury your face in my neck, shoulders shaking.

“I was just going to take out the trash, you ridiculous drama dog!” 

.  


  


_AN:[Here](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/dont-go-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	15. Con Job

I remember the first time I saw you: I was standing on the hill at the edge of the city and you ungracefully stumbled from the sky like a bird with a wing once broken and badly mended. But beneath that, I saw your potential and your hidden beauty and I knew that I had to have you.

I run my knuckles gently over your skin and feel you hum in response. My beautiful Ajouni. No more falling towards the planet like you wished to crash and burn. Now you move like a stingray in the ocean and I shiver every time I see you.

I don’t believe in love at first sight but whatever drew me to you was way too powerful to ignore. I went down to the docks that evening and the first time I touched you, the wave of want that swept through me almost brought me to my knees. I would have killed to get you, but as is turned out, that wasn’t necessary. I only needed to get married.

My friends said I was crazy to marry a man I’d never seen before, just to get a place on a spaceship. They never understood that you are so much more, a living, breathing, biomechanical wonder.

Karl wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to me on this shithole of a planet even under normal circumstances. To get you, being married to him for five years was a minor inconvenience. As it turned out, I didn’t even have to wait that long. The day he died and all his belongings went to me, you stopped being a possession.

He’d had a pilot, of course, one of those things bred in a lab for this purpose alone. You were always just a thing he used. The day I offered to take the pilot’s place, offered to be yours, I was so scared that you’d reject me, I almost threw up on you.

I’m not sure if I could have let you go, had you not wanted me, but the same force that pulled me to you pulled on you, too.

I drop down onto the pilot seat and lean back. Time to go. Your tentacle-like tubes reach for me, the sharp endings digging into my skin, breaching it. You enter into me and after the usual initial shock and pain you flood my senses and there is only bliss. I don’t know where I end and you begin. Here, in the vast expanse of space, we are one.

_AN: I was inspired by the Leviathan Moya, from Farscape, a sentient spaceship_


	16. Dirty Deeds

The cleaning person who comes in the evenings is my favourite one, because she always dances while sweeping, hips swaying gracefully to music I only feel the beat of.

But now she has left and the huge room outside my little enclave is only filled with dim light and silence.  
I carefully open the tank’s lid and climb out, quietly making my way down to the ground. Opening the other tank is a bit of a challenge, because I need to awkwardly jam myself between it and the wall. But then it opens and I slip in. It’s cooler here and murkier. But I know where I need to go anyway, I have been making these trips for a while now, ever since I started wooing you.

I’m carefully digging around in the sandy ground, because that’s where you can find the dead ones and you only like the dead ones. I brought you a live one, once, and you ignored me for way too long. Not making this mistake again. Anyway, I’m here, digging, when someone suddenly knocks on the glass. It’s the cleaning person and I’m startled so bad; I almost make a mess.

She stares at me, I stare back. Then she waves, actually waves, at me and what does she think I am going to do? Wave back?

I wave back.

She grins and moves away.

‘Yeah, showing real stealth here, buddy!’ I cynically think to myself, before grabbing my loot and clambering back towards my own tank.

When I reach your dwelling, I carefully set my offering down in front of the entrance and prepare to wait. You like to make me wait, but I don’t mind. I look at all the pretty dead ones I have brought you and I wonder if maybe this time you will finally accept me.

Usually you just reach out and pull my offering inside, but this time, you glide out and I can’t believe my luck! You wrap your two longest tentacles around me and pull me into your den and I can only hope that it will not become my gave, that I will survive this mating season as I have survived the ones before.

The beautiful tiny shell I brought you lies outside, forgotten.

You can find this prompt [here](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/dirty-deeds-writing-prompts) .


	17. Can you see me?

I am a ghost. Nobody sees me.

I sit at my desk and I look at the room around me. Everything is dull and grey. I haven’t seen colours in a long time.

The other kids don’t notice me. They never will.

The days will go on and everything will stay grey and colourless.

I look up when I hear footsteps. She crouches down in front of my desk and smiles.

“Hello James. We’re having a break now, don’t you want to go outside and play?”

I shake my head. I am a ghost. Nobody sees me.

“I know it’s hard to be the new kid. Come on, we’ll look for the others together.”

She takes my hand and I follow her from the grey classroom to the grey playground filled with grey children.

She walks up to a few kids from my class and asks if they could need another pair of hands to build their leaves maze. I don’t expect anything to happen. I am a ghost. Nobody sees me.

But a girl gets up from whatever she is doing and she grabs my hand and says, “Come on, I’ll show you where we need help!”

I look back at my teacher. She smiles and then she turns to go back inside. Her dress, I realise, is bright blue.

.  
 _AN:[Here’](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/can-you-see-me-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	18. Oh, not again...

I have never liked Thursdays, so of course this all happened on a Thursday.

It’s around noon and I’m having a sandwich in front of the TV. It’s the first time our country managed to qualify for the world championship and I’m not missing this for anything. The commercials seem to go on forever and just as they end, there is a knock at the front door. Of course there is, it’s Thursday after all. When I open the door, I find two men in grey suits outside. They smile a sleazy smile.

‘Oh, not again…’ I think.

“Good morning. We’d like to talk to Emily?”

Everybody always wants to talk to Emily, ever since she won that stupid worm charming contest. Why can’t she be into horses, like all the other girls, or comics, like I am? Who cares about freaking worms anyway?

I wave the men inside and tell them that they’ll find Emily in the garden with my mom and then I go back to my lunch.

Naturally, this being a Thursday, the peace doesn’t last long. I’ve just settled down again comfortably when Emily starts to scream. It’s not her usual ‘I’m not getting what I want’ wailing, it’s serious and full of terror. I drop the plate, stumble to my feet and sprint into the garden.

The tableau I run into is so weird that it takes my brain several seconds to understand. Mom is on the ground, one of the men has a weapon, the other has _tentacles_ and is holding Emily who is still screaming like a banshee. Because my brain is busy processing all that, it forgets to tell my feet to stop running and I barrel right into tentacle guy.

The guy is hissing at me and Emily throws her arms around me with a clingy force that seems to indicate she secretly has tentacles too and then the other guy hits me with the weapon, and everything goes dark.

*

And this is how Emily and I ended up on a planet that used to get devastated by whale-sized earthworms, how my little sister became queen because she charmed the beasts into surrender and how I missed the second half of the first world championship we had a team in. Freaking Thursdays, man!

_AN:[Here’](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/oh-not-again-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	19. Oh, not again... (2)

I am surrounded by darkness and pressure. I open my mouth to breathe and it doesn’t work. I panic until I realise that I don’t need to breathe. At least not the way I was used to. For some reason I seem to breathe through my skin, but I am not suffocating, so I’m gonna deal with that weirdness later.

I realise that I’m underground, encompassed by moist soil. Have I been buried alive? The last thing I remember is reading my comic in the garden.

I wiggle and that somehow works. I move. Wait. Where are my arms and legs?

Before I can panic about not having arms or legs though something else happens that seems perfectly valid to panic about: something slithers against me.

There really is no other word for it.

The thing is snake-like or worm-like and… HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE!

A worm? She turned me into a fucking worm?

I make fun of her for being a witch with a worm as a familiar and because of that she _turns_ me into one?

The other worm is still wiggling next to me and my worm-body is somehow reacting to that and _oh Lord_ is that thing sexing me up?

My little vengeful witch sister did not only turn me into a fucking worm, she turned me into a _fucking_ worm!

**  
_AN: Atlin mentions worm shipping in her introduction and that’s what my brain comes up with. I am so sorry!_


	20. Into the Light

Old Mrs Gillespie stares daggers at me as the nurse ushers me through as an emergency. I inwardly poke my tongue at her. She is only here to ogle the nice young doctor whereas I am actually bleeding.

Doctor Mardan steps in and pales a bit when she sees my arm.

“What the heck have you been doing?”

She pulls me out of her office onto the small terrace and into the light of the sun.

“I was gardening and got into a fight with the shed.”

I smile weakly and she chuckles. “It’s not as bad as it looked inside. You won’t even need stitches.”

Her finger ghosts over the soft skin on the inside of my arm and I shiver, imagining them on other places on my body.

She tells me to wait and then returns to clean the wound and to gently pluck out all the splinters. We are still on the terrace and the act feels far more intimate than it would have in her office.

I watch her eyes crinkle in concentration. Her hair is in a ponytail and shimmers like liquid caramel and I long to run my hand over the shaved part of her skull, feel the delicious tingling of the short hairs.

“All done!” She smiles at me and I quickly lower my gaze as to not give anything away.

*

The heat of the day is slowly dissipating when Julia comes home. I have given up on the gardening about an hour ago and am enjoying the evening in a deckchair, reading a book.

Julia comes into the garden and toes off her shoes. Then she crawls onto the deckchair and on top of me until we are nose to nose.

I can feel her grin as she kisses me and I already know what’s coming.

“ _Someone_ had naughty thoughts about her doctor today!”

I blush and she smiles.

“I told you I don’t mind.”

“But it’s your workplace.”

“Do you think you are the only one looking at me like that? I prefer your eyes on me to anybody else’s by far, workplace or not! But if it bothers you, you can always switch doctors.”

She leans down to whisper in my ear, “I will now tell you in confidentiality that I am having naughty thoughts about a patient on a regular basis.”

She pulls back and smirks at me like a goblin. I can’t help but laugh.

“Is that so?”

She hums against my lips and we forget about talking for a while.

She shimmies down a bit until she can rest her head on my chest. I put my hand on her neck, my thumb gently caressing the soft short hair on the base of her skull.

The sun is slowly setting in the distance and I close my eyes, her weight on me grounding me in the beauty of this moment.

_AN:[Here’](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/into-the-light-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	21. Red Tide

The newspapers have started calling him ‘The Red Tide’ after the third body was found.

I was not amused by that. First, as far as nicknames go, this one is ridiculous because all it makes me think of is my period, and second, killing people is a trade you don’t call attention to.

I collect all the newspaper clippings nonetheless and I harass the investigating officer as often as I can to learn everything about him. He is clever and cunning and his blade is sharp.

The people in this city are scared. Streets remain empty after nightfall and no one walks alone.

I read about him and the more I read, the more fascinated I become. I dream about meeting him and I wonder what he looks like. Is he handsome? Rugged? Does he have a beard? I imagine his hands to be soft and skilled, like a pianist. Or the surgeon that he is.

He has dropped six bodies so far and the police will never catch him. He is far too good for that.

I quietly scout alleys and dead ends and all his other favourite hunting grounds. One day I will find him and I’ll show him that my blade is as sharp as his.

_AN:[Here’](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/red-tide-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	22. Spin a Tale

“Okay, I gotta go, that was the doorbell, it’s gonna be the tech psychic.”

I can practically hear Mel raise an eyebrow.

“You’re actually going through with this?”

“I’ve had 5 different tech support people and not one of them could find anything wrong with the wifi.”

“A tech psychic though? He’s got to be a fraud.”

“Probably. I am desperate though.”

I hang up and open the door.  
  
* *  
  
45 minutes later, still sitting on my purple carpet, my router cradled in his lap, Jake throws a lengthy explanation at me, but the only thing I hear is… what?

“Are you saying that my wifi is sentient?”

“All tech is. You just usually don’t notice it.”

I assume he is making a joke, but the laughter dies in my throat when my smartStereo turns on, blasting my favourite song through the speakers.

I shiver and my router blinks, once, twice, and then the music abruptly dies.

“Are you sure I’m not just… I don’t know… haunted?”

“You’re ready to believe in malevolent spirits but not in tech developing sentiency?“

He has a point.

“Okay, let’s say I believe you. What do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“My wifi breaks down every time I am sad or angry. That’s not helpful.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t reach out to people for advice or comfort.”

The music starts blasting again and we both jump. Jake starts laughing. I really can’t see the humour in any of this. My house is haunted by a sentient wifi connection, I have been forced to consult a tech psychic and now my smartStereo apparently lost its mind.

Jake pats the router still sitting in his lap, which for some reason turns the music off, and then grins at me. “I think what you need is a relationship counsellor.”

“Excuse me?” Now my tech psychic apparently lost his mind.

“K, let me put this in terms you understand. Say you were living with another human. What would you expect them to do when you are sad?”

“Sit with me and listen?”

He waves his hand in a ‘there you go’ motion.

“My wifi turns off because it wants to sit with me and listen?”

He waves his hand in another ‘there you go’ motion. I want to punch him. Not for the first time today.

“It’s turning its focus towards you. You should feel flattered.”

“Oh, should I now? Mostly I feel confused. And slightly freaked out, if I’m completely honest.”

Jake looks serious for the first time and gently pats my knee. “You should try it. It is an honour. Mostly they don’t care about us. We are like insects to them. Short-lived and unimportant.”

“If that was meant to be reassuring, let me tell you, it really wasn’t!”

“It will not harm you. But seriously, try it.”

I give up. Sentient wifi. Okay.

“Do I need to cuddle the router?”

“What? Oh, no. That was just for show.” He hands me the router with a grin and now I really want to punch him.

But since I have nothing to lose (except for maybe my sanity), I wait until Jake has left to lie down on the purple carpet next to my router. It feels weird to talk to the empty apartment, but after a while, when the sun has gone down, the light turns on in a gentle shade the light switch definitely has no setting for and the smartStereo starts to play soft classical music.

It is surprisingly nice and comforting.

.

_AN:[Here’](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/spin-a-tale-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	23. Never have I ever…

The little shop opposite the bank had been shuttered and in decay for several years, so when workers suddenly started tearing down wallpaper and in one case the whole wall, the people up and down the street got excited.

When the logo appeared over the door, curiosity peaked. _Never have I ever…_ Everybody had their own ideas of what it would be, and bets were placed, some in secret, some in the open.

It still took weeks and shortly before opening it wasn’t only kids pressing their noses against the glass to peek inside.

But then, the first of June, the time had come.

It turned out to be a coffee place and folks were a bit disappointed until they saw the hand-painted sign in the window: Tell us your ‘Never have I ever…’ when ordering your coffee and you get a pastry for free.

At first people were hesitant to share their secrets like that, thinking it had to be something embarrassing like ‘Never have I ever had sex in a car’ and yeah, that might not be something your whole neighbourhood needs to talk about.

But slowly, almost unnoticed, the wonder of the idea started to unfold.

Like when Mrs. Brem (84 years old) from No. 4 shared that she’d never ridden a motorbike, the biker three people down the line (who no one ever would have spoken to, because hello? This is a respectable neighbourhood!) offered to take her for a ride and to everyone’s and her own surprise Mrs. Brem agreed. She returned with her usually perfect hair all in disarray and a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there for decades.

And when young Billy (there with his mom, picking up cake for her employer, because they were so poor they’d never be able to afford this place) said that he’d never been to the beach and the family sitting at the window table offered to take him the next time they went. (They did that time and all the times after and because of that Billy is going to be a renowned marine biologist in 20 years.)

And when Kyle, who grew up with rich parents who were always busy, said that he’d never learned how to do any repairs around the house, Mr Walters from round the corner offered to teach him in exchange for Kyle actually doing all the repairs his house needed. (He later got shanghaied by Mr Walters into painting his fence but because Kyle went to buy the paint on his own, Mr Walters’ boring and orderly middle-class house is now surrounded by a multicoloured fence. He secretly loves it!)

And when Mary admitted that she’d never learned to cook anything but mashed potatoes and eggs and mostly lived from take-out, she got invited by Liana, who works at the farmers’ market, and they’ve had weekly cooking dates since then that everyone of their friends always wants to be invited to.

*  
Jake is closing the café after its one-year anniversary party, which was a huge success of course, the only person still there with him his big brother Tom.

Tom, after putting chairs on the tables, slaps Jake’s shoulder and shakes his head.  
“This place is booming! But if you don’t stop this ‘Never have I ever…’ freebie thing, you’ll never get rich with it.”

Jake shakes his head. “That was not my intention anyway.” He grins. “Never have I ever wanted to get rich with this.”

.

_AN:[Here’](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/never-have-i-ever-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	24. Come on

Filidan crouched down next to his cousin, and the heavy backpack almost tipped him over.

“The heck are you dragging around in there? That’s where the statue is supposed to go!” Merek was clearly not happy.

“Don’t worry. It’s going to go in there.”

“What, you’re taking out the trash while we’re working?”

“No…” He ducked his head and peeled back the flap of the backpack far enough for Merek to peek inside.

“Why is there already a freaking statue inside?”

“I just thought the lady might be sad when we steal her fancy statue.”

“So you made a replacement?”

“Yes. Your sister helped.”

„My dude, I love you, but you are seriously weird! Come on, let’s go!”

~

10 minutes later they were inside the very impressive mansion.

“Holy shit. This lady is _loaded_! I wish we could take some other stuff too!”

Filidan was tempted to kick his cousin’s shin. “We are trying to build a profile as professional and specialised art thieves. If we loot, we are no better than… well, very much not professional and specialised thieves.”

“I know, I know. I’m just saying! She probably wouldn’t even miss… Is that a Samurai uniform?”

While Merek stared at all the other treasures the old lady had, Filidan grabbed the statue and replaced it with his own. Then the two men disappeared as quickly as they’d entered.

~

The new statue was appreciated way more than even Filidan could have guessed.

Lady Molton-Treble had seriously disliked her late husband and therefore the statue (although if not for that connotation, it could have been a lovely thing), but, as a serious cake lover, she very much did like the new one, all covered in glitter and sprinkles.

She gently patted the statue’s head and grabbed her purse. It was time to go to the insurance company and rake in her money. She’d already picked 5 organisations she was gonna donate the lion’s share to.

.

_AN:[Here’](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/come-on-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	25. From Underneath

She comes to bed smelling of sulphur, ashes and burned hair again.

I try to push her away.

“No. We agreed. Not coming to bed smelling like that.”

“I showered!”

“You still smell.”

But her body is warm and familiar and by the way she softly curls against me I know she knows that she has won.

~

The next evening, I find her in the living room with an inverted pentagram painted on the floor. In the middle of it she has placed several items as offerings. At least that’s what I presume. I never pay too much attention when she talks about summoning her first demon.

“That’s my grandma’s throw pillow!”

“I know!”

I hate that thing!

“You hate that thing!”

And that’s why I love her.

She hands me an umbrella and then proceeds to ignore me. I watch her light some candles and pour some liquid onto the pentagram that I’m not even gonna ask about. She murmurs soft incantations the whole time.

After a while I realise I am still holding the umbrella.

“Why am I carrying that umbrella in my own living room again?”

She waves a hand for me to be silent, but right at that moment the pillow in the middle explodes and rains all kinds of disgusting things on me and yeah, the umbrella makes sense now. Other things, not so much…

“And why are we doing this _in our living room_?”

She waves her hand again and points at the middle of the pentagram, which by the way is now apparently permanently burned into the carpet.

The tiny demon sitting in it has horns and its fur has the same pattern as my grandma’s throw pillow. Now that I think about it, it seems to also have her temperament of being constantly angry.

“I expected something… bigger? Fiercer?”

“It’s my first demon.”

“True.”

“Plus, he has teeth. AND horns!”

“Also true.”

We look at the very tiny, very angry demon for a while.

“Okay, I have to get up early tomorrow, I’m going to bed.”

She pulls out her notebook and hums an affirmative. I am already forgotten. I kiss the top of her head and leave the two to whatever it is they are doing.

~

She wakes me several hours later.

“He is not leaving.”

“Hm? Who?”

“The demon.”

“What do you mean, he is not leaving?”

“I tried every banishing ritual I know. He just sits on the carpet and hisses at me.”

I pull her onto the bed with me.

“If you actually did summon my grandmother, you know we will never get rid of him, right?”

She yawns.

“Shouldn’t have used the throw pillow.”

_AN:[Here](https://www.clandestinepress.net/blogs/clan_destine_press_blog/from-underneath-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	26. In My Experience

When the university told me my new roommate would be from the Frost Nebula I was worried at first.

But Mbr’x turned out quite different from what I expected. A bit weird, sure, like sometimes they stood in the middle of the room without sound or movement for hours and I still have no clue what that was. Sifting through data? Defragging? Sleeping? Other than that, they were friendly and quiet. They spoke 25 Earth languages and were ridiculously delighted by everything I did.

The university gave me a pamphlet with cultural misunderstandings likely to happen and I guess they gave Mbr’x one too, because those misunderstandings never did happen. The ones that did happen were so absurd that clearly nobody could have seen them coming.

The first one occurred on Mbr’x’ first Wednesday on Earth. I was out with Klara and my phone rang.

„Your friend fell over!“

“What? Who? Fell over? What happened?”

Did they mean someone fainted?

“The tall, silent one! They just fell over as I was talking! What do I do?”

The tall one? Why was a friend of mine there? Did someone come over? Do we have a tall neighbour?

“Are they breathing?”

“How do I know?”

“The stomach is moving up and down?”

“Which part is the stomach?”

“The soft part in the middle.

“No, it’s not moving!”

“Okay, okay. Um… first aid. Shit!”

“Paul!” Klara stared at me and I put the call on speaker.

“Yes, sorry, sorry. Recovery position… no, breathing first. Okay, if they’re not breathing, you need to do mouth to mouth resuscitation!”

“Mouth to.. what?”

“Breathe for them. Into their mouth.”

Klara was waving and trying to get my attention.

“What?”

“Head-tilt and chin-lift manoeuvre!”

“Shit, yes! Mbr’x, you need to grab their chin and move the head up.”

“Which part is the head?”

“The round thing at the top.”

“Which one?”

“What? There should only be one.”

“There are… twelve. And some are in the middle.”

“Twelve… The fuck?”

At this point, my brain simply refused to work. Klara’s clearly did not, because she gently took the phone from my hand and started to talk to Mbr’x. My brain tuned back in when she told them that this particular friend didn’t need to breathe, they just needed to be upright again.

And that, my friends, is how my roommate from out of space, on their first Wednesday on Earth, tried to resuscitate my dieffenbachia.

_AN:[Here’](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/in-my-experience-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.


	27. Let Me Understand

She was wearing a flowery dress and the first thought she had was that she was dressed completely inappropriately for being kidnapped by a Martian.

She was having a picnic on her own, sitting on one of the floating boulders, when he stepped out of the shadow of the blue shrubbery. As all Martians he was dressed in a red spacesuit. She had seen pictures from Long Before and knew that humans had used similar devices on planets not suited to their needs, before they’d just terraformed whatever planet they wanted to use.

She had never seen a Martian up close and never expected to see one either. They were not supposed to be here, so why was he?

He took a step closer and she slowly lowered the hand holding the sandwich. Common sense would have been to run for the hills, screaming. Common sense clearly had nothing to say today, she thought as she watched her own hand offer him her sandwich.

A second later she realised that he couldn’t eat it anyway, because taking off his helmet meant certain death. She blushed. He looked at the sandwich for a moment, then he nodded his head, looked at her face and started to root for something in his pocket. His hand reappeared, holding a small, beautiful red stone, that he gently held out to her. She took it with quite some confusion. He pointed to the stone and then to her face. She blushed even harder, but then she threw her head back and laughed.

She patted the boulder next to her and they sat in surprisingly comfortable silence and watched the moons rise.

~ ~ ~

The second time he came, he brought her a translator, something she could’ve never afforded on her own, and that made everything much easier.

The next few weeks were filled with clandestine meetings, because no one here would approve her socialising with a Martian.

Talking to him opened a new world (well, several, to be precise) for her and she realised how narrow her own life had been so far. When he asked her to go with him, she didn’t even have to think about it.

She was wearing her flowery dress and the last thought before she left her planet was that she was dressed completely appropriately for being kidnapped by _this_ Martian.

_AN:[Here’](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/let-me-understand-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	28. Walk Away

„Come on, sweetie, finish your cake.”

The cake was rose-coloured and frilly. Jenna loved it, so of course Jake hated it.

In fact, he hated everything about this day. The cake, the attention his sister got, her stupid dress as frilly as the cake, having to sit with Aunt Marble who smelled like sea weed, but most of all he hated that it reminded him of his own Seabirth-day.

He’d known there was no sense in wishing it wouldn’t come, it was inevitable as the tide, but it only got real when the sea started calling his sister lately and their mom had gone and made an appointment with the priestess.

He’d never cared about the sea, but when his Seabirth-day had grown near, he’d imagined himself as various graceful and dangerous sea creatures. Had annoyed all his friends with his fantasies, making it even more embarrassing that none of them had come true. He sighed. His sister was hopefully gonna be a pink sea slug or a useless thing like a seahorse.

At the beach he listened to the traditional chants and the re-telling of the origins story, the priestess explaining their people’s connection to the sea and the gift of shape-shifting and blab la bla. Everybody here had heard that story 5000 times already.

The sea seemed to be dancing in expectation and excitement. When his sister took the final step from land to water and dipped her feet into the ocean, the waves rushed to the spot where she was standing, lifted her gently and carried her out. She squealed in delight and then all that was left was a series of footprints in the wet sand.

“Why don’t you go in too, Jake? Go swim with your sister!”

Oh no, he’d had enough on his own Seabirth-day. He was not going to turn into his sea-shape in front of all their relatives, or anybody for that matter, ever again.

So Jake, instead of frolicking in the sea as an arrow worm, sat in the sand, pouting, as he jealously watched the slim silhouette of the shark disappear into the ocean.

_[Jake’s opinions are his own. Sea slugs are beautiful and so are seahorses. Also he’s an idiot. He should appreciate the fact that he gets to shape-shift into a sea creature!  
PS: Apologies to all arrow worms! ]_

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/walk-away-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	29. No Lights

The wind was picking up, turning the gentle swoosh of the waves into an uncoordinated sloshing. She could see dark clouds banking up on the horizon and knew that equally dark masses were moving under the surface of the sea, rolling in the deep, waiting eagerly to angrily spill over the beach. The harder the wind blew, the further the waves came, almost as if they were reaching for the small house on the dunes, trying to claw it back into the sea.

She hated storms, not because of the waves or the wind, but because you never knew what it would drag up from the depth, be it wreckage, dead fish, or dead people.

She’d made a deal with the sea, a lifetime ago, but the ocean was a treacherous friend and she never knew how much she could trust that deal. Each storm seemed to be a reminder of what she had done and a warning to not break her promise.

She stood at the window and looked out over the beach. In the rolling waves, head-high, crashing onto her land she could see dark shapes moving. She felt them watching her in turn, felt their hunger. They were always waiting, always hungry.

She’d used that once.

It had been a dark and stormy night too, Billy had been drinking and as always when he’d been drinking he’d started to get violent. Bloody and scared to her bones she’d stumbled down to the water’s edge, ready to end her own life to escape the terror of her marriage.

She always wondered if it was the smell of blood or of desperation that called them.

The creatures that had stepped out of the waves had looked like young women at first, but then she’d realised that their eyes were too big and they had entirely too many teeth. They had moved eerily as one as they’d leaned towards her, sniffing and hissing, and then turned their heads towards the house.

Morgan had followed their gaze to her house and realised that it was not going to be _her_ life that would end that day.

To this day she does not know where she had got the strength to drag her unconscious husband to the beach.

She did not regret what she had done. She had lived a wonderful long life, married again, a good man who never understood why she would not leave the remote place on the tiny island.

She knew that her time was drawing near, not this storm, but maybe the next or the one after she’d have to go down to the shore and give herself over to them, the creatures in the sea, always waiting, always hungry.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/no-lights-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	30. They are coming

„They have reached the neighbouring system.”

Ma-Ra enters, looking worried. I echo their feeling.

We should’ve never gone that far into unknown territory, should never have landed on that small blue planet. But we were young and we thought the universes were ours to play with.

We considered them amoeba, funny little things to amuse us for a while. We were so young. Our ability to shapeshift scared them but also made them look at us in awe. We each picked one of their animals as a dominant persona and they turned us into Gods. We taught them things and they built beautiful statues and temples for us.

But it turned out that humans are a fierce species. They battled and murdered and would stop at nothing to gain profit. We felt that sooner or later they would turn against their Gods too, so we left.

And we forgot about them, a plaything from our youth, millennia ago.

Not many of my companions from back then are left. We are the old ones now. We never thought this day would come, but somehow some of us survived long enough to see humanity reach for the stars. Maybe even search for those old Gods of theirs?

~

A star-turn later more news arrive. Ma-Ra and I have been conversing. Should we warn our leaders that we know the species that is making its way into our territory? That we should fear them, for they are not peaceful as we?

We also wonder if it was our interference that turned humans into what they were then? Or maybe what made them want to walk the paths of the Gods too? Will the downfall of our system be on us? On the errors we made as youths?

But the news that arrive are unexpected. It is not an army coming, but ships with the purpose of research and they are solely crewed by women, sent from a planet lead by women. For the first time in a long while I have hope. Not only for us, but for humanity as well.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/they-are-coming-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where December came from, but it seriously took me by surprise. I wish I had time to do an Advent calendar with fic, but I barely get through the week as it is, so I'm not putting that on my plate... :/
> 
> I hope you all are good! :)


	31. Why would you?

The milky way is just a faint shimmer in the starboard window when the new captain swooshes in for the first time.

Everyone on the bridge turns and stares. Because the man they all have heard is strict and by the book is wearing an honest-to-the-stars cape. It’s purple and sparkling and if we’re being honest, he looks absolutely dashing in it.

He flops down in the captain’s chair and starts giving orders as if he wasn’t looking like he was about to win the Nebula 5 award. His second in command clears his throat and the crew turn back to their assigned tasks. Nobody mentions the cape.

In the evening, the captain and the engineer sit in one of the small leisure spots, equipped with comfortable seating and a broad window showing the view outside.

The engineer shakes his head. “Why would you?”

“To keep the crew on their toes?”

The engineer snorts.

“To prove that I’m fearless?”

The engineer rolls his eyes.

“To… okay fine. The real question here is: Why wouldn’t I? Have you seen me?”

The engineer throws his head back and laughs.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/why-would-you-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	32. Falling Ashes

_> > Volcano eruption in 15 minutes!_

The computer voice is too loud and too shrill. I blink awake and almost fall off the chair.

My back hurts and why am I on a chair? It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. I was on guard duty, sitting near the computer and I must have fallen asleep, feet up on the console.

I drop my feet to the ground and only then does it register what the computer just said.

“Shit!”

Branx rips open the door and shouts for me to hurry up, his blue scales shimmer in the dimmed night-time light. I grab my gear and follow him down the corridor towards the exit.

_> > Volcano eruption in 10 minutes!_

„Faster!“ Linx explodes out of her room and overtakes both of us.

She reaches the exit and starts turning the wheel to open the bulkhead. Her gaze is furious.

“Who of you fuckers was on guard duty?”

I am spared the answer when the bulkhead swings open and we spill through it in a tangle of limbs and curses.

_> > Volcano eruption in 5 minutes!_

„Come on, come on, come on! “

I run as fast as I ever have in my life, slamming into Branx almost painfully when he stops in front of me. We have reached the edge of a flat plane, the ground covered with soft orange grass.

“We made it!” Branx wiggles his tails and turns around to grin at me.

We drop our butts on the ground and Linx puts her arm around my shoulders.

“You fell asleep again, didn’t you? Moron,” she mumbles into my hair. Her scales have turned back to being mostly green and that tells me she is not angry anymore.

“Look!” Branx claps his hands together, his claws clicking against each other.

We lift our gazes and watch the annual eruption of Argan’s volcano, watch the yellow ash explode into the sky before it gently tumbles to the ground. I open my mouth and catch some on my tongue. It’s good to be home.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/falling-ashes-writing-challenge) is this story's picture prompt._


	33. Broken by Kindness

“Could you be any slower?”

Mez stares down at me in anger. We are early, so I really don’t know why he’s so agitated. He waits until I come up on his left side.

“What’s going on?” I try to whisper, but it’s hard when you’re panting like a steam loco because you just climbed a 50-floor building up to the 30th floor.

“I just got troubling new information.”

“What?”

“We have company.”

I assume he means right now and look around wildly, almost losing my footing and slipping down the wall. Mez grabs my arm and scowls.

“Inside!”

“Oh… sorry.” I feel a little sheepish and wait for him to go on.

“The Kindness is here.”

I jerk so bad that I _actually_ lose my footing and start slipping down the wall. Mez grabs my arm again, but this time he doesn’t scowl, probably because he knows he should have waited until we were inside to tell me.

The Kindness is an infamous assassin. His victims never have any wounds and they always smile happily. Nobody really knows how he does it. There are rumours of course, the most prominent one that he is some kind of vampire who feeds on gratefulness instead of anger or fear.

I wonder of we should abort the mission, but Mez is already climbing again, so I shrug and follow.

20 minutes later we are inside and have split up to suss things out. I turn a corner and almost walk into a beautiful woman. Her grown shimmers in all kinds of colours and looks like it is made from the wings of a million beetles.

We both blink in surprise because this is a restricted area and we both know it.

She recovers first and offers me a dazzling smile.

“I see I’m not the only nosy guest this evening. How about we investigate these rooms together and then return to the party. I won’t tell if you don’t!”

This seems like the best offer I have heard in a long time.

There is a faint tingling in the back of my mind, like something I should remember, but she still smiles at me and takes my arm and everything else is forgotten.

“Thank you,” I reply, smiling back happily. “You are very kind.”

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/broken-by-kindness-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	34. Get Up Now

“Get up!“

The voice sneaks its way into my state of unconsciousness, past the undefined softness of purple clouds.

“Come on, you need to get up!”

I don’t want to leave the place where I don’t have any limbs, where everything is gentle and dim, but the voice is insistent. I groan.

There is not enough oxygen in the room, someone should open a window, I think. But then I remember the bars in front of the window, still sturdy despite being old and rusty.

“Get up now!”

The voice is closer now and the person it belongs to grabs my arm. Dammit, I have limbs again, all of them stiff and hurting.

I try to remember what day it is and what kind if torture they inflicted on me before I passed out. My head pounds and it is difficult to open my eyes. Someone is kneeling before me, their face swimming into view, blurred and out of focus. I feel like I have seen the man before.

I think I might be dying and maybe the man needs to know.

“I think I’m dying.”

“Seriously, Kyle, you ridiculous drama llama. You had one beer and were in bed by 11:30. Class starts in 45 minutes. Get up!”

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/get-up-now-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	35. A Trick of the Eye

The sun is slowly setting on my right as I walk down the beach. The lights of the nearest small coastal town shine in the distance, beckoning me closer. But I chose this loneliness for a reason, thus I never walk that far.

I sit down on my favourite rock and watch the sky turn red and pink and purple before it finally decides on today’s shades of dark blue. I sit there in the darkness, listening to the waves swoosh over the beach, until the moon has risen far enough to illuminate my walk back.

I take my time, enjoying the way my naked feet sink into the wet sand when suddenly something catches my eye. I wade a bit deeper into the water and pick up a shell, just the size of my palm.

I turn it around and whenever it catches the light of the moon it glistens in all shades of the universe. It’s so beautiful it touches something inside of me that I thought long dead. I take it with me because I want to be able to look at it every day to remember this feeling.

The next morning, my first thought is the shell, but when I come down, the shell sits on my kitchen table, dull and hueless. I try wetting it with water, I even try a bit of oil, but it stays that way, pretending it was never anything else but bland.

That evening, on my usual walk, I return the shell to the ocean and before it sinks into the depth, it catches the light of the moon and shines for me one last time.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/a-trick-of-the-eye-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	36. Take Courage

I arrive at the usual hangout and it is already buzzing.

Two elderly solitary bees are slowly drifting by, searching for the best spot to settle down. Their voices fade in and out.

“Did you hear about Humbert? No? The idiot managed to get trapped in one of the huge boxes with the invisible walls and had to be rescued by a human. A _human_!I’d be sooo embarrassed!”

Two young honey bees zip by, always in a hurry, these.

“We are always late because of you. Hurry up, the best spots will already be taken. Oh, great! Bromilla is already here. I’ll not hear the end of it!”

I drop down next to my folks and look around.

“Why the hell is Howard here?”

Emory scoffs. “He’s my cousin, what do you want me to say?”

“He’s a fucking _wasp_!”

“Yeah, well, he’s adopted.”

Howard’s focus is elsewhere, though. “There she is!” He takes off.

“She’ll never look at him.” Ellery rolls her eyes. “She’s perfect. Chubby and fuzzy and that soft buzzing!”

“You’re probably right, but the world has seen stranger things. And if you’re not, that’s a tale we’ll be telling our grand-generation!”

“True.” Emory drops his voice, mock-aged. “Gather round, young ones, I will tell you the story of how one wasp’s love was returned by a bumblebee.”

_An: Atlin said she wanted people to give names to the bees, so I did. 😉 Also, this is of course a 221bee!_

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/take-courage-writing-prompts-1) is this story's picture prompt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! May 2021 bring all that we hoped for in 2020 and more!


	37. If Time Stood Still

It’s early dusk when Papilio comes tumbling into my sleeping place. She’s never been the most graceful.

“Come on,” she pipes, “come on, comeoncomeoncomeon!”

“What?” I grumble.

“You promised to go exploring past the river with Tineo and me today!”

“I’m not even warm yet!”

“You’re getting as slow as grandmother Pyraloidea!”

“Please, I uncooned only two days before you.”

I grumble some more, but I did promise, and I am curious to see what lies on the other side of the river. So I flap my wings to warm my body and then we take off into the night.

Tineo meets us near Twotree where she lives and we play catch on our way through the forest towards the river.

The first thing we notice once we’ve crossed the river is a faint glow that seems to draw us in whether we want to or not. Well, to be honest, I’m sure Papilio wants to and I don’t.

“What is that?” Tineo whispers, swaying like she can’t decide if she wants to dart into the clearing or run away.

“What are those?” Never have I seen animals like that before.

“I’m gonna have a look!” And with that Papilio hops out from behind the shrubbery and towards the glowy thing. Someone squeals (yes, okay, me. It was me.) and Tineo looks like she might faint.

Papilio spreads her wings and starts to curiously make her way around the glowy thing and the sleeping animals. Tineo and I relax a bit because she doesn’t seem to be in any danger.

_Of course_ one of the things chooses that exact moment, when I think we might get to go home with all limbs and wings attached, to extend its foreleg and almost hits Papilio straight in the face.

For a second time stands still, then she catches herself and with a surprisingly elegant sway she sails on, just to crash into the foliage moments later. I gracefully let go of Tineo, who only looks a tiny bit ruffled now, and take a deep breath.

We decide to go the long way round the clearing and by the time we arrive, Papilio is sitting on a low branch, grinning like mad.

“Did you see that?”

“Did we see…? Yeah, we did! I almost threw up in panic!” Look how I totally manage to keep my cool here.

“I think it was super awesome!” Tineo adds, feisty again now that she knows everyone is safe.

“I think I am the bravest of us all!” Papilio puffs her chest.

“ _I think_ it clearly showed that it’s time to return home!” I turn towards the river.

I hear Papilio mumble ‘grandmother Pyraloidea’ but both she and Tineo follow me without further resistance.

~~

Not one of the three people sleeping next to the fire would ever know that they provided adventure and excitement for three little moths that would last them a lifetime.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/if-time-stood-still-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	38. A Broken Instrument

I’ve been working for three days without pause. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept. But none of that is important. Time is running out and I have not succeeded. But this is it, I can feel it!

The workshop is a huge mess. The spell book is covered with dirty fingerprints and droplets of candle wax, on the table there are shards of molten glass from previous tries, spilled liquids and powders in blue and purple, singed pieces of paper and three dead mice.

But now everything is ready for the last, the final try. This time it will work! The only thing missing is you and you’ll be here soon!

And then I’ll take you away from here to a place where we won’t age or die. When this works, we will be together forever, hidden away from the world!

I can already hear your footsteps. I light the candle and grab the mouse.

*

_“Wow, what happened here? It looks like his latest experiment exploded!”_

_“And where is he? I told him I don’t have much time, there’s so much to do before the wedding tomorrow.”_

_“But you’re soft and you couldn’t resist his puppy eyes.”_

_“He said it was important. I think the word he used was ‘imperative’.”_

_“He’s always so dramatic. And honestly, I think he’s a creep. You’re far too nice to him, meeting him the evening before you’re wedding.”_

_“Don’t be mean! But you’re right, I have dinner plans with my in-laws. Let’s go. Whatever it was, he can tell me tomorrow.”_

_“Wait, look. I think he left something for you. Here, on the table. Oh, it’s a diamond! Did he make you a diamond?”_

_“Aaww, that’s so sweet! And it’s beautiful!”_

_“Are you not gonna take it?”_

_“No, I’m gonna leave it here. He worked so hard on this, he’ll want to give it to me himself!”_

*

I shout and slam my fists against the walls of my diamond prison, but you don’t hear me. I watch you walk away from me forever, my view jumbled by the facets, like looking through a kaleidoscope.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/a-broken-instrument-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	39. Dead Mountain

Kaliope climbs the steep mountain slope in front of me with even, measured steps. I’m huffing and puffing whereas she looks like she just got up from the couch.

Kaliope is an earth mage _and_ a scientist, which is a rare enough combination that she gets calls from all over the world. Volcanoes and mountains, earthquakes and landslides, that’s the stuff that gets her exited. Me? Not so much. But I’m her go-to gal for everything explosive, so here I am.

Where exactly ‘here’ is? I’m really not sure. A dead mountain in the middle of a country 9 flight hours from where I live, that’s about to spew fire and ash. Our job is to combine her mage powers and my explosives skills to direct that towards the back of mountain, away from the city at its foot.

We reach a point close to the top of the mountain and Kaliope stops. She presses both hands and her right ear against the rock and listens. Or feels? Maybe it’s both. She tried to explain it, once, but I guess it’s a process non-mages like me can’t grasp.

Whatever she heard or felt makes her go left and follow a cliff till we reach the mouth of a small cave. The cavern is narrow and I manage to bang my head several times, which is not improving my mood.

After walking for ten minutes, Kaliope goes to her knees and presses her hands against the ground. She gasps. “Oh, I can feel her! Her blood is boiling and it’s much closer to the surface than they thought. But there is something else, something cool and serene… I… I have never felt anything like it!”

Her hands start to glow as she focuses on the rock. Suddenly there is a loud crack and the ground splits under our feet. I stumble and almost fall, expecting hot lava to erupt from beneath. Instead there is a faint blue glow.

I kneel to get a better look. It’s scales. Scales the size of my bed. They are sparkling like blue gems, even in the faint light of our torches.

“What the fuck is that?”

“I think it’s a dragon!”

_“Excuse me?”_

“A dragon!”

“Dragons have been extinct for millennia.”

“There are people who think they were captured and put into a deep sleep by powerful mages. Clearly those people were right.”

“So, um, this is not really a mountain?”

“I guess not. Or not all of it, anyway.”

“What do we do now?” I sit down on the ground heavily.

“You are going to place your explosives and we are going to free her.”

“Freeing her will bring done the whole mountain. There’s no way to control any of that. No way to save the city.”

“I’ll use my magic to direct the mother’s blood away from the city. The rest we’ll have to leave in the hands of the universe.”

An hour later, amidst explosions and chaos, the dragon erupts from the mountain, rocks and dust flying everywhere. Kaliope keeps us safe with her magic, but after redirecting the lava I can see her get weaker by the minute.

“We are going to die here, do you realise that?” I am surprised at how calm I am. I just helped rebirth a gorgeous blue dragon, that is now circling over our heads.

“Yeah,” she says and smiles at me. She looks utterly at peace as she takes me hand. “But look at the wonder that we returned to the world.”

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/dead-mountain-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._


	40. A Box for Wishes

The day my life changed forever started with a simple enough sentence. “Today, do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

It was one of the inspirational things my mum wrote on little cards in her beautiful penmanship and added to every order of pottery she sent out.

I was 17 and stuck at home while all my friends were on holiday somewhere because mum had to work and we couldn’t afford it anyway. I figured if I got caught, I could always put the blame on her, since technically she told me to.

In the cottage next to ours lived a nice old lady who sometimes invited us for tea. I’d have never told my friends, but I didn’t mind spending time with her, plus she baked the best scones ever! A couple of years ago I had been sneaking through her house while she was outside with mum and found a really old and mysterious looking wooden chest in her bedroom. It seemed to have once been painted but the coating had long flaked away and the silver ornaments were all dull and grey.

I couldn’t lift the lid back then, but I had grown and I had learned how to pick locks. That particular day she was out so I had all the time I needed. I walked in like I’d only wanted to borrow some sugar and then hurried up the stairs.

The chest was still in the same place. I sat down in front of it and ran my hand over the discoloured wood. It felt like the chest was softly vibrating.

I grabbed my lock picking set and went to work. An hour later the chest was still closed and I was grumpy. It hadn’t looked that difficult in the youtube video.

I circled the chest on my knees and discovered a small crack on the back. Something was stuck in there that looked like a tiny pearl. It took me another hour to dig it out.

It fell into the palm of my hand, I felt a tiny shock and then it dissolved into smoke. At the same time the voice of a terribly angry boy shouted, “I hope you fall from a tree!" And then I fainted.

I woke to a cup of tea and a pair of sad, pitying grey eyes. In the next hour I drank 5 cups of tea and learned that the chest was a box for wishes. But not the good and kind ones, no, all the dark and terrible wishes people shout or whisper or think in the middle of the night. A gentle goddess crafted the box centuries ago to collect all those wishes and stop them from turning true. If the chest were opened, they’d all spill out and come to pass.

“Did I make someone fall from a tree?” I almost choked on the words.

“Yes, I fear you did. Somewhere, somewhen, someone fell from a tree.”

“That is terrible!”

“It is.”

“Did… did you… I mean, did that happen to you too?”

“Worse.”

“What did it say?”

“It said ‘I wish I’d never met you.’”

“That’s not so bad. They will not even miss the person, won’t they?”

“The next morning there were empty places on the walls where I had hung pictures. I don’t remember who it was, but I must have loved them a lot because there were a lot of empty places.”

We fell into silence. I thought that it couldn’t possibly get worse after making someone fall from a tree. Was I wrong? Yes.

In the following hour I drank another 3 cups of tea (and peed twice) and learned that whoever made the last wish come true (that’d be me) became the new guardian of the chest until they (still me) could pass the burden on to the next curious idiot.

Next I asked all the obvious question: Burn it? Burry it? Toss it into a volcano/the sea? It all boiled down to the point where we didn’t know if the spell would hold or if all the wishes would be spilled all at once as soon as the chest got destroyed.

Why I didn’t just walk away? I don’t know if that would even have been possible, but I thought about it. Then I remembered the fight I had with my mum when I was 8 where I told her I wished she was dead.

I’ve been waiting for someone to come along and release me ever since. I’m so very sorry it had to be you, my dear.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/a-box-for-wishes-writing-challenge) is this story's picture prompt._


	41. Room No. 4

The day I had both a work-related and a personal epiphany started like any other day.

That year I was working as a cleaner for a hotel chain called The Immortal. I mostly liked the work because I rarely had to interact with people and could listen to music while I cleaned. The only person I talked to on a more or less regular basis was my co-worker Jake.

I met Jake on the fire escape for a smoke and since I just did the room I hated the most, I immediately started to complain about that.

“I _hate_ doing room no. 4! The person in there only gives me the weirdest times to clean, honestly, I don’t think I have ever been in there in daylight. I also think they are in some kind of satanic cult, because I keep having to clean blood stains out of the carpet AND I’m pretty sure they sleep under the bed.”

By this point Jake was looking at me like I was stupid. “Well, duh. He’s a vampire.”

I inhaled in shock and almost swallowed my cigarette. Jake sounded way too honest for that to be a joke. Plus, it kinda made sense.

“He’s what?”

“A vamp. Are you seriously surprised? I figured that out after a week.”

“But… how… why… Nobody warned me! I feel like that warrants a warning! How can they send humans in there to clean? What about occupational safety?”

“They don’t. That’s the point.”

“What point?”

“You do know why the hotel is called The Immortal, right?”

“I figured it’s like The Hyatt or The Imperion.”

Now Jake looked like he thought my brain might have fallen out of my head at some point.

“No, it’s because everybody is immortal, guests and staff.”

“But I’m not… Wait. Am I?”

“You’ve been hit by a car twice and walked away without a scratch!”

“I thought I was lucky!”

Now Jake looked like he was mentally going through all the immortals he knew, trying to figure out if he’d heard of one that functioned without a brain. Then he shrugged and slapped me on the back.

“Come on, I’m gonna buy you a beer and fill you in. No, wait, there are at least two immortals that explode when they drink beer. Better be safe!”

“I thought the whole idea of being immortal is to, you know, not die?”

He grinned and said, “Everybody has a weakness. Let’s hope yours isn’t alcohol!”

It wasn’t. At least not in that sense. I did embarrass myself by telling 24 people I was an immortal (unsurprisingly not a single one believed me) and then I ended the evening by puking on Jake’s shoes. Why he is still friends with me, I’ll never know.

_AN:[Here](https://improbablepress.co.uk/blogs/improbable-press/room-no-4-writing-prompts) is this story's picture prompt._

**Author's Note:**

> These stories are inspired by a series of beautiful writing prompts that Atlin Merrick started to post for all our inspiration, shared every Thursday.  
> Each chapter is a stand-alone ficlet. I'll add the prompt picture in the beginning. And I'll link to the picture prompt page, in case you get inspired and join us in writing!


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